Anole Noel

A few years ago my wife and I decided we didn't want an artificial Christmas tree. And we didn't want a cut down real tree. It was just the two of us in a small house with way too much furniture. Clearing a corner for a full-blown tree seemed like too much of a hassle. So we got a little Japanese pine tree in a gallon-sized plastic pot. We put it on our sideboard. covered the sideboard with a few sheets of cottony fake snow sprinkled with sparkles, decorated the tree with one string of tiny white lights, itty-bitty colored Christmas bulbs, and a petite angel on the top. Voila! Christmas for two.

When Christmas was over we put the potted little tree in a shady spot in our back yard. Most of the back of the house is covered in cement. There is the back pallet and a carport. The rest of the 'yard', like the house, is way too cluttered with plants and shrubs. There is no place to plant a small tree that might grow into a big tree. We figured the miniature Christmas tree would die and end up in the trash. But it was a stubborn little thing. It seemed to thrive on neglect. It soon got to be too big for its pot. So we replanted it in a bigger pot. And it grew some more.

By the next Christmas that little tree had grown to a full four feet tall and was beautifully shaped. Several weeks before Christmas it was cold (by Florida standards) and rainy so we brought the tree into our back room and placed it on a low shelf opposite our washing machine. The tree would stay there until we cleared space for it in the living room.

Our dog would come into the back room and just stare at that little tree. Nose going a mile a minute, eyes focused, ears forward and head a little tilted. She looked like a black version of the trademark dog for RCA Victor. Dogs do not like different. Any change in the décor seems to upset them. And this tree had our dog mesmerized and confused.

One evening my wife came into the kitchen from the back room after putting a load of laundry in the washing machine. "Have you ever had the feeling that you're being watched, and there's no one there?"

"It's probably just the dog. She's acting weird about the tree being there. She's probably staring at the tree and you think she is staring at you." I told her.

"That's probably it."

The next day my wife asked me if tinsel tarnished. I told her no. It is not real metal. Just silver-colored plastic.

"That's odd, because I swear I noticed some tarnished tinsel hanging from the top branches of the tree."

"Well, it can't be tarnished tinsel for two reasons. One, like I said tinsel doesn't tarnish. And two, we didn't put any tinsel on the tree last year." But by now I was curious. "Show me this tarnished tinsel."

She took me into the back room to examine the tree. "That's strange. There were six or seven long strands hanging down from those top branches when I took the clothes out of the washer."

"Maybe it was a reflection of something from the sliding glass doors."

She seemed to accept that idea. And that was the end of the tarnished tinsel mystery.

That weekend we cleared some space for the tree in the corner of the living room. I set down a white bed sheet to cover the pot once it was in place. I went into the back room for the tree. I took hold of it by the top-most spike. I lifted it and thumped it down on the floor to shake off the dry dirt and leaves that still clung to the pot.

The tree came alive! Lizards shot out all over the place! Our dog, who loves to chase lizards, must have thought that Christmas had come early for her. She was in heaven!

Lizards ran under the washing machine, between bottles of bleach and boxes of detergents, up the walls, up the curtains, and almost up my leg! My wife frantically pulled our fifty-plus-pound dog out of the back room and into the kitchen. She shut the door. The dog hit the door, peering through the window - like a kid looking into Santa's workshop!

I slid the back door open and herded as many lizards as I could out onto the back deck. I used a broom to herd them from the walls and ceiling. I moved bottles of bleach and boxes of detergent around on the floor, herding the floor-bound lizards out the door.

When there were no more lizards to be found, I gently took the Christmas tree outside. There, each branch of the tree was inspected, shaken and fondled from the bottom up. Three new lizards leapt from their warm hiding places. As a final step, I sprayed the tree with watered-down Windex (it was all I could find that would not be toxic to the tree or the lizards that might be left lurking in the branches)

Now, lizard-free and sparkling clean, I brought the tree back into the house. I placed it on the sheet in the corner of the living room. We strung strings of little white lights, hung dozens of itty-bitty colored bulbs, placed the petite angel on the top spike of the tree. The white sheet was wrapped around the pot. The white sheet was covered in cottony fake snow sprinkled with sparkles. Wrapped gifts were placed under the tree.

We thought it was beautiful. Our dog gave it a sniff and lost all interest in it. Without lizards it was just another piece of furniture.

After Christmas, the tree was stripped of its decorations. We put it out by the curb for trash pick-up. I was just walking away from the tree when a woman pulled up to the curb. "I know just the place for this tree in my garden!" So, the tree found a good home where it could grow to its full height and serve as a mega condo for lizards for years to come.

Well into the new year we would find a few straggler lizards in the back room. In the spring, we had to move the washing machine. Underneath it, covered in dust and dog hair, were the desiccated bodies of four lizards. Flat, brown, with their tails in little curly cues. My wife picked one up by the tail.

"You know, if we spray painted them with silver paint . . . we could hang 'em on the tree by their tails. Authentic Florida Christmas decorations!"